


Out of My League

by ninetyninebottlesofkiribaku



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Bilingual Character(s), Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hana "D.Va" Song Is a Little Shit, Hanzo Shimada Is a Slut and I Love Him, I decided to be extra, I don't ship it cause.... gross, Implied Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada Are Best Friends, Jesse McCree Can Speak Spanish, Lúcio Correia dos Santos & Hana "D.Va" Song Are Best Friends, M/M, Mentioned oc - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Top Jesse McCree, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree, a sliver of mcreaper, also d.va wears glasses, and now my fingers hurt, but noooooooooo, don't... ask me why, god I suck at smut....., like I could've made this have chapters, mentioned gencio, mentioned lúcio x oc, mentioned mcgenji, no offense tho, no one is a cyborg or a murder ok, why did I make this so long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-12 01:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetyninebottlesofkiribaku/pseuds/ninetyninebottlesofkiribaku
Summary: "He isn't ready for this, not in the least, having just revealed his preference for cocks over cunts only a week ago and knowing that the most intimate thing he's ever done with another human being his hold hands. He curses his luck for having nothing but satanic friends and turns to find his way back to the door before he does something incredibly stupid."Aka Jesse realizes he's gay, goes to a bar, and meets a man who he thinks is a sex god.





	Out of My League

Standing in the middle of a sea of grinding, sweaty bodies, Jesse knows he's screwed up. 

It was a heat-of-the-moment decision, coming here tonight, with Hana goading him until he gave in and marched through the door of the nearest gay club with a fake ID clenched in his fist.

He isn't ready for this, not in the least, having just revealed his preference for cocks over cunts only a week ago and knowing that the most intimate thing he's ever done with another human being his hold hands. He curses his luck for having nothing but satanic friends and turns to find his way back to the door before he does something incredibly stupid. 

A hand to his chest stops him in his tracks. He blinks, unsure of what to do amidst the flashing lights and pounding music, and locked eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man at least half a decade older than him, wearing clothes that leave nothing to the imagination.

"Are you lost?" The man moves close enough for Jesse to feel his breath against his cheek. "I've never seen you here before. I would've remembered you."

Jesse can feel his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He should step back, excuse himself, and bolt from this place he knows he doesn't belong in. But he only stands there, still as a pole, and waits.

The man's hand trails to his elbow, curving around it to tug him in the direction of the bar. "Let me buy you a drink, hm?" Jesse lets himself be steered to the bar, already feeling drunk off all the noise and the tight tight clothes and the lights that make his temples pound. 

With a jerk, Jesse feels himself sit down, staring wide-eyed at the half-full glasses lining the countertop and the chatter of other young men standing by his every side. The thump of a new, full glass right in front of him pulls his attention away and, without thinking, he lifts it to his lips with a grimace.

In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. The alcohol slides down his throat with a tingling burn, spreading through his blood like a drop of dye in water. He shudders.

The man who bought him his first drink beckons to the bartender, pressing close enough for Jesse to smell his too-sweet cologne. "Another." He cocks a grin at Jesse. "The name's Gabe. Yours?"

"Eli," Jesse lies, priding himself on his smooth reply, and snags his second glass from the counter. Once again, he knocks back in one shot, and relishes in the way the taste seems to linger over his skin even after he's swallowed. 

He feels a hand against the small of his back, caressing, as Gabe leans closer. "Whoa there, take it easy," he says, but the grin's still there. "Don't want you to pass out in a place like this."

Jesse shrugs, still unsure of what to do with this man who clearly intends to take him home and fuck him stupid, if the fingers that are now skirting across his tailbone and dipping past the waistband of his jeans are any indication.

But Jesse doesn't particularly feel like losing his virginity to someone who could very well go to jail for it, so he jerks away from the suggestive touch and scrambles off his chair. Without looking up, he says, "Sorry," and slips back into the anonymity of the crowd.

With enough alcohol in his system to give zeros shits about the fact that he had no idea where he's going, Jesse weaves mindlessly across the dance floor. He lets the thump of the music and the streaks of light coloring the walls guide his feet- that is, until he crashes into someone hard enough to nearly knock the both of them to the floor.

Jesse catches himself just in time and blindly throws his arms out, hoping to catch the unfortunate guy he's almost sent into an early grave, and feels nails dig into his shoulder in response. "Fuck, I—" Jesse cuts himself off; his tongue suddenly lost all ability to function. 

Dark eyes lined in black smother at him from under even darker lashes, pale skin flushes in surprise and indignation, and Jesse knows he's gone.

Swallowing, he rights himself and tells himself to take a step back, to give this stranger some space, but his body won't comply.

The dark eyes flicker over Jesse's face and blaze a path down his body. Jesse blushes, hard, and the wild notion that he's currently being mentally undressed.

Thin, pale lips curve up in a smirk, and the hand on Jesse's shoulder slides up to rake through his hair and pull him closer.

"Dance with me," is whispered into his ear, and Jesse has all of two seconds to decide what to do when he's let go and the stranger turns to press his back against Jesse's chest, close enough that Jesse can feel his own heartbeat in his ears.

Jesse's mouth falls open on a startled moan as hips grind down har against his and an arm snakes around the back of his neck. Embarrassed, Jesse bites his lip hard enough to draw blood and focuses on the slender line of his partner's neck, glistening under the lights that sweep over the crowd at random. He has the sudden urge to drag his tongue over that sweat-slicked skin, sink his teeth in deep enough to make a mark and prove that he'd been there, that he'd claimed territory, that he'd taken this god underneath him. 

A head falls back on his shoulder, dark eyes half-lidded as they lock with his, pupils blown wide. Their hips push against each other in continuous gyrating motions, over and over and over in a dirty, filthy grind. As he watches, a pink tongue sweeps over a bottom lip, and Jesse is painfully aware of how tight his jeans are, how hot he feels under all his clothes, how much he wants to devour the stranger under him.

The arm around the back of his neck tugs, and in the next second there's a tongue sliding wetly along his. He groans, low in his throat, and feels more than hears an answering moan. He feels the tongue flicking at his teeth, the roof of his mouth, and it's sloppy and careless and so fucking hot.

Growing bold, he anchors his hands to the hips moving against his and grinds his fully hard cock into the clothed ass of his partner, smug when he receives a pleased moan in return. 

When his partner finally pulls back, Jesse blinks, still lost in the hazy pleasure of their filthy dancing. He can't tear his gaze from the lips he'd just been kissing, shining slick and swollen in the flashing lights.

Beautiful, Jesse thinks, dizzy. He's beautiful. 

"Want to get out of here?" his partner asks, body still wound tight around Jesse's, and Jesse couldn't have done anything in that moment but nod.

He gets a brilliant smile in return and, before he knows it, is being pulled into the stinging cold air of the night. He blinks again.

They half-walk, half-sprint the eight blocks to the nearest motel. In the time it takes to get there, Jesse is slammed against a wall and kissed senseless at least three times (he loses count after that) and Jesse is inebriated enough to not only go along with it, but also kiss back just as forcefully, never mind that they're out in the open for all eyes to see. By the time they arrive at the door of their room, Jesse's lips have gone numb and his cock is so hard it hurts.

As his partner scrambles for the keys, Jesse thinks it's a good time to blurt out, "'m Jesse, by th' way," his Southern accent thick with desire.

The key is located and shoved into the lock with more force than necessary. Dark eyes, still lined with black that's beginning to smudge around the edges, flicker to meet his.

"Hanzo," his partner says, his Japanese accent clear, yanking them into the room and kicking the door shut, and Jesse finds himself pressed against yet another wall. They kiss, almost desperately, before Hanzo breaks away to sink to his knees. 

Jesse almost collapses right then and there. "Goddamn," he breathes, and watches Hanzo slide the zipper of his jeans down and lick his lips, maintaining eye contact the whole way.

Jesse feels his breath catch in his throat; he can't look away.

Hanzo pushes the waistband of his pants and boxers down far enough for his cock to finally spring free from its confines, the tip brushing Hanzo's chin as it does so. Hanzo eyes it, licks his lips once more before moving in to wrap them around the head of Jesse's cock.

Jesse fights to keep his legs from collapsing as Hanzo takes him deeper, the tip bumping the back of his throat, tongue stroking along the underside like he's done this a thousand times before—and maybe he has. Whatever the case, Jesse loses the ability to form coherent thoughts as his entire world narrows down to the hot, sick heat around his length, his hips twitching as he restrains the urge to buck mindlessly into it.

But Hanzo clearly has other plans; he pulls Jesse's hands away from where he has them pressed against the wall and places them on his head instead, fits his hands into the curve of Jesse's hip bones, flicks a beckoning look up through his long lashes.

"You look good." The words slip out unintentionally, and Jesse's face goes up in flames until he sees the look on Hanzo's face—raw, unadulterated lust. "Yeah—fuck—really good."

Hanzo swallows around the tip of Jesse's cock, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile, and Jesse gets the message.

He flexes his hands where they lay in Hanzo's dark hair, then twists the strands around his fingers and gives a light tug. Eyelids fluttering, Hanzo moans softly in approval, and the vibrations around his cock draw a choked gasp from Jesse. He lets go of all pretenses to be careful.

Later, he'd apologize for the almost brutal way he thrusts into Hanzo's mouth as if it's nothing more than a hole to fuck. But right now, its Hanzo's lips tightening around his dick, cheeks hollowing, tongue dipping under the foreskin and rubbing across the the throbbing vein that runs along the underside, Jesse can think of nothing but chasing that electrifying pleasure the makes his toes curl and his head thud back against the wall.

"Sh-shit," Jesse manages to gasp out between the endless stream of groans tumbling from his throat unrestrained—he can see stars behind his eyelids—and when did he close his eyes? He forces them open to glance back down at Hanzo, at the dark, dark eyes, at the swollen lips red as blood, and watches, mesmerized, as Hanzo slips his own hand into his pants and strokes himself, fast.

That's when Jesse realizes he doesn't want to come; not like this.

Jesse pulls Hanzo off his cock, the pitiful whine Hanzo lets out very nearly convincing him to just save it back in, and says, "I want t' fuck you."

He isn't sure exactly when he'd gotten so bold, but the way Hanzo responds is well worth it.

Something flashes in those dark eyes as Hanzo stands back up, somehow managing to make the movement look graceful despite his mussed hair and the pants dangling off his hips. He takes two steps back until his legs hit the side of the bed, then sits down on the mattress to pull his jeans off.

Glancing up at Jesse, who's still slumped against the wall, he says, "Then fuck me."

Jesse scrambles to shuck the rets of his clothes off, his heart lodging in his throat when Hanzo lays back across the sheets, spreading his legs, wrapping thin fingers around his cock and pumping, slow and easy, like he has all the time in the world. All that pale skin blending into the white sheets, that dark air fanning out on the pillow. Jesse feels like he could die from the sight.

Instead, he takes a step forward, tentative at first, then practically lunges towards Hanzo when he sees the hint of a smile. 

Their lips meet in a crushing kiss, Hanzo silently hooking his ankles around Jesse's chubby waist after Jesse fits himself between his legs, Jesse knocking Hanzo's hand aside to feel that satin-smooth skin for himself. Hanzo lets out a moan, breathy and hitching in all the right ways, and languidly rolls his hips up into Jesse's touch.

Jesse reluctantly pulls away, shuddering when Hanzo instantly turns his attention to biting a mark into the side of Jesse's throat instead. "Do you have, uh," he clears his throat, "stuff?"

Hanzo hums against his skin, tongue laving across the bruise Jesse knows he's made, and without a word presses something into Jesse's palm.

Looking down, Jesse finds himself holding a small bottle of lube. He figures now isn't a great time to ask when and where Hanzo had gotten ahold of it.

Even if Jesse has never done anything remotely close to this before, he's still a guy, and has watched plenty of porn, and knows the mechanics of what he's supposed to do. Yet, as he fumbles with popping the cap open and pouring a substantial amount of lube onto his fingers, Jesse is painfully aware of how inexperienced he is. He doesn't even want to think about how obvious it is to Hanzo, the guy he's experts to fuck in the next few minutes.

And Hanzo doesn't look like the kind of person that'd settle for an okay performance. But soon that isn't even the problem—Jesse finds himself with an all-consuming urge to give Hanzo what he wants, what he deserves, looking like that in the shadows of the room.

Instead of snapping at Jesse for sitting there like an idiot, Hanzo only spreads himself out wider and waits, chest heaving against the sheets. He gazes silently up at Jesse.

Jesse shakes himself out of it—what is he doing? He has a beautiful stranger underneath him, pale skin flushed all the way down to his pretty cock, hard and leaking against his flat stomach, waiting for him and only him. 

 Jesse sets his jaw, keeping his eyes locked on Hanzo's face as he lowers slick fingers down between Hanzo's legs. Hanzo bites his lips, hard, as Jesse begins tracing circles around his rim, the tip of his middle finger using just enough to dip inside. He leaves it there for a moment, thumb pressing against the skin just behind Hanzo's balls, before letting it slide further.

Hanzo clenches around the intrusion, the soft, slick heat making Jesse's stomach tighten as he unwittingly imagines what that heat will feel like around his cock. He groans, pushes deeper, rubs slow along Hanzo's inner walls until he sees those thin lips part around a gasp.

"Good?" he asks, second finger ending in to join the first. 

Hanzo's mouth quivers against his; his hips twitch. "Mm, good." Slender fingers slide across Jesse's back, nails scraping lightly, and Hanzo clenches down again, this time with purpose, his body sucking Jesse's fingers in like it never wants them to leave. And Jesse can deal with that—he can still manage to focus on the task—but when Hanzo brushes his fingers over the throbbing length of Jesse's dick, Jesse shakes so hard he has to squeeze his eyes shut to bring himself back under control.

When he opens them again, Hanzo's looking at him with an absolutely diabolical gleam in his eye. His hand curls around Jesse's dick, just holding it in his palm for a moment, before he starts pulling, nice and firm, thumb rubbing across the tip to collect every drop of precome. 

Jesse swallows. He wants to be careful, he really does, because Hanzo seems so small under him and he really doesn't want to screw this up. But when Hanzo's jerking him off like that, warm and wet all around him, Jesse figures he's just asking for it.

He screws his fingers in harder, faster, almost growling with his growing impatience. And Hanzo likes it, maybe too much considering the way he's grinding down against Jesse's hand, panting, sweat painting across his skin.

Then Jesse crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, searching, and Hanzo's back arches off the bed so high it can't be comfortable, but the long moan he lets out tells Jesse he isn't complaining. Jesse watches Hanzo twist in the sheets, captivated by the way his body bends, the way his hands fist the pillow under his head in mindless pleasure. 

"God, please," Hanzo says, the two words slurring together. His free hand slides down his body, past his cock, and Jesse's breath stutters when he feels Hanzo wiggle his own finger inside right alongside Jesse's.

Jesse looks down between Hanzo's legs, stunned, and nearly comes right then and there at the sight of Hanzo's hole stretched wide around their three fingers as they fuck in and out, in and out, shining slick under the dim lights. He doesn't have time to think, only see and feel and hear, when Hanzo suddenly grabs his wrist and pulls them both out.

"Ready," he says, out of breath, and stares heavy-lidded at Jesse.

"Condoms"

Hanzo tilts his head in the direction of the nightstand; his fingers smooth their way down Jesse's chest. "Check in there."

Trying hard not to seem too affected by Hanzo's touch, Jesse stretches to yank the drawer open and rifle through it, praying to any god who hasn't already written him a ticket straight to hell that this dingy motel at least has condoms to offer. He really doesn't want to end this fairly satisfying night with a measly handjob.

When his fingers snag the corner of an unmistakable foil package, Jesse lets out a sigh of relief and reclaims his place between Hanzo's legs with a condom clutched in his hand.

Hanzo's mouth curves into another smile and he laughs, soft breathless. Jesse's heart flips inside his chest at the sound, and he's afraid of what it might mean.

Shaking it off, Jesse tears the wrapper open with his teeth, hasty when he rolls the condom on, unconcerned with putting on a show. His skin itches with the need to be inside Hanzo.

As he wipes the excess lube on his hand over the condom, Hanzo shifts further up the bed to turn over onto his stomach, but Jesse stops him with a hand on his hip.

Hanzo slants a questioning look over his shoulder. Jesse hesitates, suddenly embarrassed, and says, "I want to see your face." He unconsciously moves his hand lower, smoothes it over the round curve of Hanzo's ass and kneads into the flesh. "While we, y'know." He wants to cringe at how disgustingly sappy he sounds, but Hanzo only turns back over, silent, hitching his legs back around Jesse's waist.

Hanzo's fingertips brush along his jaw, up his jaw, up the nape of his neck, and slide into his hair. For a moment they both look at each other, pressed close, breath mingling in the little space separating them.

It's intimate enough that Jesse has to remind himself to keep breathing.

Then Jesse thumbs his cock down, Hanzo's brow furrowing when the tip snags against his rim, and sinks deep inside with one smooth thrust.

Hanzo's body bows, his mouth falling open, fingers curling against the sheets. And it takes all of Jesse's willpower to stay still, to not immediately take Hanzo by the hips and fuck into the mattress till he's gone, but god, the way he feels wrapped around Jesse's dick is making something fierce burn in the center of his stomach.

"Fuck," Hanzo rasps, jolting Jesse out of his stupor, "fuck."

Jesse wants to kiss him again, but he's torn between feeling those trembling lips against his own and watching every pant, every fluttering eyelid, every moan as he presses deep into Hanzo's body, warm and soft and—fuck.

Then Hanzo's squeezing hard around him, so tight Jesse starts to feel like he's suffocating, and that's probably Hanzo's way of telling him to fucking move. But when Jesse continues holding himself still, unsure of what to do, blunt nails rake their way down his back. Jesse winces at the sting, but his cheeks flame when he realizes that the pain isn't unwelcome; his cock throbs, and Hanzo clenches hard.

It's an issue he'll think about later when he's not balls deep inside another guy, but for now he plants his hands beside both of Hanzo's shoulders to steady himself as he tests the waters with a shallow thrust.

It has Hanzo's neck straining, shoulders pushing into the sheets, hooded eyes dropping shut. He sighs, almost in respite, arms hooking over Jesse's torso, and Jesse just stares down at him in wonder. He can't believe his luck.

He doesn't even notice that his hips have fallen into a steady rhythm until he hears Hanzo moan, then again and again and again, each one just that much louder than the last. It's a sound Jesse thinks he can get addicted to; he thinks he probably already is.

The Hanzo gasps, loud and shivering across his lips; his body jerks under Jesse and he whines, ankles locking tighter tighter tighter until Jesse swears every inch of his copper skin has fused with Hanzo's pale flesh. He guesses that's the spot, so he adjusts the tilt of his hips to slide inside that same angle with each thrust.

"God, fuck me," slips out somewhere in-between the lewd slap of skin-on-skin and those noises Hanzo's making, lilting into a keen when Jesse grinds in hard, leaning down to bite a mark into Hanzo's perfect pale skin. He can hear himself panting, sweat beading along his chest, and savors the way Hanzo's eyelids flutter as he struggles to keep his eyes open, struggles to hold onto at least some control.

But he doesn't need to know, really; they both know exactly who's in control tonight. Hanzo's got Jesse wrapped around his finger, has had him like that since the moment they crashed into each other an hour ago. Every breath he takes, every moan that slips past those thin lips has Jesse tripping over himself to snag just a whisper between his fingertips before it slips away forever. And Jesse would gladly hand over everything he has for this stranger he only knows by one word—Hanzo.

It's a dangerous thought, one that pierces straight through the drunken fog Jesse's been swathed so comfortably in. It brings him back to reality, sobers him enough that his hips falter.

But he doesn't have much time to panic over whatever the fuck he's doing, because Hanzo's already letting out an impatient noise and pushing Jesse off him to press his back into the headboard instead, maneuvering himself over Jesse's body to straddle his waist. Jesse blinks owlishly up at him, hands automatically coming to a rest on Hanzo's pale hips. He's not sure what to expect.

He doesn't have time to even think about asking when Hanzo's already blindly reaching behind himself to grasp the base of Jesse's cock, sliding it between his cheeks a few times to tease before rising up on his knees and slipping it back into his hole all in one fluid motion.

Jesse nearly chokes on air, fingers unconsciously digging into Hanzo's smooth skin, toes curling against the mattress.

Hanzo flicks an amused look at him, tucking his hair behind his ear, and asks, "How's it feel?"

Jesse stutters; words aren't coming to him, though he can probably blame that on the way Hanzo's rolling his hips down against his, filthy slow.

While Jesse's mouth hangs slack in a moan, Hanzo leans close to press his lips to the edge of Jesse's jaw, close enough that Jesse can merit when he whispers, "Come on. Tell me." Hanzo sinks all the way down, far enough to rest his ass against Jesse's thighs, and there's a hitch in his breath when he continues. "Because you feel so good inside me. So deep. Deeper than I've ever had it."

And the thought of Hanzo with someone else makes something foreign throb in Jesse's chest, dark and piercing and all-consuming. His grip tightens on Hanzo's hips to hold him in place and he thrusts up into that heat, open and warm for him, and Hanzo's hands scramble helplessly against his chest.

"You wanna know how y'feel?" Another hard thrust. "So hot 'n tight, like y'were made for my cock." Another. "I could stay inside ya forever." Another.

Hanzo's head falls back, body shaking, mouth opening around a gasp. Jesse watches him with something like fire searing through his gut.

"So good," Hanzo says again, dropping his hips down to meet Jesse's every time they push up, and the fire in Jesse's gut burns and burns and burns until he knows he can't hold on much longer.

Reluctant for this to end, Jesse wraps his arms around Hanzo's back and pulls him close enough to feel his heart racing against his chest. He pushes his face into the crook of Hanzo's neck and inhales so deep he can taste the smell of sex and sweat and Hanzo in the very back of his throat.

One of Hanzo's hands falls from Jesse's shoulder to hook around himself. dipping in his crack. Their eyes lock, hard and burning, just as Hanzo presses his fingertips along his stretched hole and feels were Jesse's cock is sliding in and out of his body.

Those pale red lips part and Hanzo's saying "Jesse, Jesse, Jesse" like it's the only word he knows and Jesse is coming so hard his vision tunnels into black.

When he blinks the last of the blurriness away, Hanzo's still rocking down on Jesse's softening cock, all the way until it slips out of his hole. He whines, desperate, and that's when Jesse catches a glimpse of his dick, still hard and shining with precome.

Without thinking too much about it, Jesse's reaching around Hanzo to pull the condom off and toss it on the floor, then scooting far enough down the headboard that his face is level with Hanzo's flushed cock. He opens his mouth, and waits.

Hanzo groans above him, and Jesse hears him swear in what he thinks is Japanese before he's pushing his cock into Jesse's mouth. It glides smooth across his tongue, precome easing the way in, and nudges the back of his throat before pulling back.

Jesse closes his lips around the head, tongues the underside, tires to remember what Hanzo had done to him earlier that evening.

Right. He'd just held himself still and let Jesse fuck his mouth, and Jesse definitely has a fully functional gag reflex and he thinks throwing up right now might ruin the mood.

Jesse swallows, internally panicking, before figuring that the best thing he can do now is just wing it and hope he doesn't do something stupid like bite Hanzo's dick off. He pulls back enough to let Hanzo's cock slip out of his mouth and pushes himself up into a better angle, leaning forward to run his tongue along the hard length and lightly scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin. Hanzo watches him, eyes dark and expectant, hips nudging forward to rub the tip of his cock against the seam of Jesse's lips.

Getting the message, Jesse leans his weight on one elbow to wrap his free hand around the base and hold it steady as he sinks back down on Hanzo's cock, going far enough to feel himself start choking around it.

Hanzo shivers, sliding a hand through Jesse's thick hair and curving around his jaw to tilt his chin up and get a better look at the way Jesse's mouth stretches to accommodate his length. Aware of this, Jesse turns his head to the side, enough for the head to push against the inside of his cheek, hiding a smile when he hears Hanzo groan again. He quietly skims cool fingers over the bulge in Jesse's cheek, and Jesse indulges him for a moment before tightening his lips around Hanzo's cock as he sucks hard.

Hanzo swears, hands clenching down hard on Jesse's shoulders, hips stuttering feebly. Jesse doesn't let him finish catching his breath before he's bobbing his head, jaw aching as it works to take Hanzo's cock, tongue stroking the foreskin back on every stroke. Jesse watches as Hanzo starts to fall apart, and takes the opportunity to push two fingers into his slick, open hole.

Hanzo moans like he's dying, hips bucking so hard Jesse nearly chokes when his dick slides too far down his throat. He recovers quickly, swallowing Hanzo's cock deeper and pumping his fingers faster, and Hanzo's saying "Oh god, _fuck_ , Jesse, please—" and his hands fall from Jesse's shoulders to twist in the sheets and suddenly he pulls out with a jerk and something wet spurts against the corner of Jesse's mouth and his chin ands neck.

Jesse licks his lips, savoring the flushed, wrecked look on Hanzo's face, and tastes the bitter tang of Hanzo's come.

Hanzo collapses forward into his chest, still shallowly rocking his hips against Jesse's to drag his orgasm out, little sobbing hiccups escaping him every few seconds. Jesse pulls his fingers out of Hanzo's clenching hole to rub soothing circles around his rim, middle finger occasionally sinking back inside to feel along those silky-smooth walls.

Eventually Hanzo whines, too oversensitive, and rolls off Jesse's body into the space next to him.

"Fuck," Hanzo groans, throwing an arm over his face, and Jesse grins tiredly.

"Yeah."

They lapse into a heavy silence, one that isn't quite awkward or comfortable. Uncertain of what to do now that they're no longer fucking, Jesse stares at the light sheen of sweat covering Hanzo's skin, at the way his ribcage expands and contracts with every breath.

Jesse doesn't realize he's been blatantly staring until Hanzo sighs, lowers his arms, and opens his eyes.

It might be the lighting, or the fact that Jesse is just a bit more sober than he was before they'd stumbled into bed together, or even just that he isn't so focused on getting his dick into Hanzo anymore, but at that moment Jesse realizes Hanzo's eyes aren't just any kind of dark—they're brown.

No—not just brown, Jesse correct himself—more like the subtle brown of an old leather book. Just like the fabric is worn out, but still one of the most worthwhile things in the world. His pupils were the same. They encased flakes of hazel that dwelled in love, and there was just something about there color that promised loyalty, and a long life. They were gorgeous and unreal and right in front of Jesse.

Jesse can't help himself from reaching out to smooth his thumb over the swell of Hanzo's cheek, awestruck, and wonders how he hadn't noticed in the moments Hanzo had been naked and pressed close to him.

Hanzo hums, seems to relax under his touch, and something about that makes his heart throb feebly.

Voice quiet, Jesse says, "Y'have really pretty eyes."

It's a stupid thing to say, so stupid that Jesse bites his lip in preparation for the scoff that's bound to come, but Hanzo's face remains passive, maybe a little proud.

"Thanks," he says, and the heavy silence settles back into place.

Jesse trails a finger over the sharp line of Hanzo's jaw before pulling his hand back and tucking it under his pillow. Hanzo watches him, bottom lips caught between his teeth, and when those brown eyes disappear behind pale eyelids, Jesse can admit he's sad to see them go.

He falls asleep with the slim curves Hanzo's body etched into his brain and the sweet smell of Hanzo's hair lingering under his nose.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

Jesse's head throbs like someone's pounded a dozen nails into his head overnight, every muscle in his body aching, and he has no idea where the fuck he is. The pillow smothering his ace is too thin to be his, the sheets around him tangled uncomfortably by his feet, and that's when he notices he's stark naked. With that observation comes the belated memory of what happened last night.

Oh, fuck.

Jesse scrambles to pull himself upright, skin itching anxiously, feeling some strange urge to cover himself. He can't believe he chose to lose his virginity like this—in a seedy motel with a bitch of a hangover.

And—he looks around the empty room—his partner hadn't even bothered to stick around. God, this is a mess.

Jesse groans, cradling his stupid, stupid head in his hands, and drags himself off the bed to start getting dressed. He keeps his chin tucked into his chest like a kicked puppy, curing alcohol and cocks and Hana.

Then, as he's hunting for his left shoe, he catches a glimpse of a scrap of paper placed deliberately in the center of the nightstand, the black scribble of words standing out clearly against the white.

Cautiously, like a wild animal approaching the extended hand of a child, he creeps close enough to see what it is.

_Thanks for last. 610-778-2391. Hanzo._

Hanzo.

Jesse lungs forward to grab the note, staring unblinking at the name because until he sees it there, right in front of his face, he'd still been half-convinced yesterday was just another one of his fucked-up dreams. He doesn't want to think about why it makes his heart throb harder than his brain currently is.

Instead, he shoves the note into his pocket and leaves the room, telling himself he doesn't need to look back.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

"Welcome back,  _애인 소년_ *."

Jesse does not need this right now.

He closes the door behind him, completely silent, and tries to make the point that he does not need this right now.

Unfortunately for him, Hana has a habit of ignoring his feelings.

"Aw, is Jesse McFlirter upset?" Hana pouts, but the gleam in her eye reveals her true intentions.

"Why're you even here?" Jesse groans. "I gave you that key for emergencies, y'know." He's still grimy, still smells like something he doesn't even want to know, and still feels like he's just been run over by a truck. Twice. He's never been this grateful to have parents that work early; he can't even imagine the amount of questions he'd be forced to answer.

Hana rolls her eyes, but keeps her mouth shut and goes back to playing on her DS in her hands. Jesse stands there awkwardly, flitting between heading upstairs for a shower and talking about his feelings with the person who got him into mess in the first place.

But because Hana still looks overly affronted, a petulant look on her face, Jesse sighs and hauls himself into the kitchen to take a seat at. the table.

Hana eyes him, still wary as her DS plays music to suggest that she just entered a battle.

"It's just—" Jesse rubs at the nape of his neck, grimacing, unsure of how to explain. "I didn't think it would go like this, y'know. My—first time."

Hana's brows shoot up to her hairline. "Yeah? What happened?" To Jesse's relief she doesn't seem to be mocking him. Yet.

"Don't get me wrong," Jesse says, "it was great. Amazing, even. I just kinda wanted it to... I dunno, be with someone I—"

"Like?" Hana offers.

Jesse lifts his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. He remembers those dark eyes and that pale, pale skin, and says, "Not really. I liked 'im." A lot, he doesn't say. He pauses. "Like someone I'd been in a relationship with, y'know? And then we both decided to sort of give ourselves to each other, so..." He trails off, getting the feeling he's just rambling nonsense at this point, and stares at the scratches in the table.

"Yeah," Hana says, "I get it."

Jesse nods. Then his phone vibrates in his pocket, making him jump, and a text from Lúcio lights the screen. He's on the way, he reads, and he'd better be ready to go. Shit.

As he's standing up, Hanzo's note slips out of his pocket and falls to the floor, and Jesse notices too late—Hana is already reaching down to snag it between her fingers.

"What are y—" Jesse cuts himself off as Hana unfolds the note and backs away from him to read it, her game forgotten. "Hey, give it—"

"Ooh, look at this!" Hana looks up, grinning, waving the note in Jesse's face like he hasn't already read it a hundred times. "Guess you're not hopeless after all."

Jesse frowns at her. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean," Hana says pointedly, "he left you his number."

"Yeah?"

"Never mind. You are hopeless." Hana shakes her head in disappointment. "See this? Thank—you—for—last—night. And a phone number. He had a good time and he's looking for another,  _바보_ *." Hana glances at the note a second time, grin returning full force. "And—oh, would you look at that. Hanzo, huh. Hot, wasn't he?"

Jesse can feel the heat creeping up his neck, so he averts his face towards the nearest wall instead. 

Without thinking that it might not be a good idea, Jesse mutters, "More like beautiful."

Hana bursts out laughing, heaving over the table like this is the funniest thing she's ever heard in her life, and Jesse's cheeks burn harder.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, dude," Hana wheezes. "It's just—wow. Only you would call a one-night stand beautiful."

"Somethin' wrong with that?"

Hana quiets, straightens up to retie her two buns on the sides of her head. She gives Jesse a curious look and says, "Not really. It's interesting." Then she purses her lips, seeming to lose herself in thought before shaking it off and moving to shut her DS off to conserve its battery life. "I'm just saying, I've never heard of a one-night stand leaving a note, and I've sure as hell never heard someone call one beautiful before." She glances over her shoulder, shrugs, and Jesse's throat tightens. "Maybe it's something to think about, I dunno."

Silence filters between them, and Jesse is just getting lost in his own jumble of thoughts when Hana decides now's a good time to reassume her status of Obnoxious Best Friend.

"No limp, huh?" Hana snickers. "Can't believe you topped."

To Jesse's dismay, Hana expects the cereal box Jesse chucks at her and has already bolted from the room by the time it leaves his hand.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

Lúcio's not amused when Jesse climbs into the car, disheveled and sheepish, Hana sprawling in the backseat with a smug smile plastered all over her face.

"Sorry," Jesse says, and Lúcio makes an exasperated noise.

"What did I say about listening to Hana?"

Jesse sighs, leaning his head into the window glumly. "Don't."

"That's right." Lúcio says in an I-told-you-so voice.

Behind them, Hana says, "Wrong. My ideas are the best and you know it."

"We'll be the judge of that," Lúcio tells her, and, sensing Jesse's misery, reaches over to pat his still-throbbing head in sympathy. "Dude, c'mon. Lighten up. Finals are over and we are free~! I thought we could start our celebration by hitting the arcade, then the movies, then that new Italian place downtown I told you about—"

"Lúcio—"

"—it's really amazing how many different things you can make with cheese—wait a second—what was I saying again? Oh, yeah, and then after that we can catch the game—can you believe I got us those last minute tickets? Talk about luck—"

"Alright, Lúcio, can you—"

"—and then we'll swing by Genji's place for the party. Y'know, I think it's so cool that he invited us even though two out of the three of us dated him. I really like that we're still all friends though. Yo, I bet there's gonna be a load of hot chicks there for you to try your lame pickup lines on."

Too tired to try interrupting again, Jesse settles for giving Lúcio a pointed look.

"Oh, oops—I forgot. Hot guys." Lúcio flushes, then shoots Jesse a lopsided grin. 

"And," Jesse says defensively, "my pickup lines are not lame."

"That's true," Hana pipes up. "They lost him his v-card."

Jesse elects not to tell her that he, in fact, did not use a single one of his lines on Hanzo. He doesn't think he would've been able to, anyway—it was hard enough to talk around Hanzo. ****

Lúcio chuckles, shifts gears, and pulls out of the driveway. "Alright cowboy, whatever you say. Let's go."

They go to every single place on Lúcio's last, albeit a bit out of order, and by the time they arrive at Genji's Jesse is about ready to collapse. With the events of last night still wearing him down and Lúcio and Hana dragging him to what seems like every corner of the world; the only thing he really wants to do right now is lay down and take a nap. Preferably forever.

But he's not allowed to do that, at least not yet, because his friends are pumped to get in on what Lúcio keeps insisting is going to be a fun, relaxing night and it's starting to affect Jesse, too. Maybe it'll be good for him to spend some time around new people, people who aren't Hanzo.

Yeah. Yeah, this'll be good for him.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

They're late enough that Genji's apartment is already brimming people when they walk inside, chattering idly and swaying to the music pumping through the rooms.

Hana immediately spots Genji and waves to him excitedly, grin splitting her face in half, and Jesse cranes his neck to peer across the hall curiously.

" _こんにちは、みなさん_ *," Genji greets, smiling. "Glad you could make it." 

"Yeah. You look great, dude," Lúcio says. “Nice shade of green.”

"Nice party," Jesse adds, and the four of them delve into easy conversation. It's nice talking to Genji again; he dated Lúcio before Jesse, and yet the three of them are still really close friends. And ever since he dropped out of high school to pursue running his father's company, it hasn't been the same, and keeping in touch is hard when you're only meeting up every few months at gatherings like this.

They've barely been talking for more than five minutes when someone to the right of Jesse says, in a bored voice, "Genji, where's the ice?"

Jesse never finds out where the ice is, because when he turns to see who's asking he loses the ability to think, speak, and even breath because no way, no fucking way. Everything around him blurs and fades into nothing until it's just—

"You guys know my older brother, right~?" Genji grabs a pale yet muscular arm before its owner can slink away, and dark eyes flick to the ceiling with a sigh. "Hanzo."

Jesse's mouth drops open.

_Oh god oh my god fuck fuck fuck what the fuck—_

"Oh yeah, hey Hanzo," Lúcio grins, because apparently the universe hates Jesse, and oh my god, fuck, Hanzo—of course Jesse had known Genji had a brother named Hanzo—he had talked about him all the time back during their high school days—but how was he supposed to have known he was _this_ Hanzo?

Hanzo holds his hand out for Lúcio to shake, then Hana, and is about to offer it to Jesse when he freezes upon seeing who it is. But his eyes—oh my god, those fucking _eyes_ —only widen minutely before a blank expression slips over his face. His hand hovers in midair, wavering, then falls to his side.

"Yes," Hanzo says, and somehow his voice is as blank as his face, "we've met."

"Really?" Genji looks between the two of them, completely unaware of Jesse's newfound urge to turn around and bolt from the room and spend the rest of his life banging his head against a wall.

Fuck, is he stupid?

"Yes," Hanzo says again, crossing his arms and pursing his lips and tapping his right foot against the floor, in beat with the music. "At the library." He looks so uncomfortable Jesse almost starts feeling bad for him instead of for himself.

"The library,  _내 엉덩이_ *." Hana mutters, and Jesse shoves an elbow into her side to shut her up, face burning like he had a fever. He's never felt this hot in his life, not even when he had Hanzo sitting on his—

 _Nope, nope, nopeity nope_ , he tells himself. Not a good idea.

"Well, I'm going to go get that ice," Hanzo says formally. "Nice meeting you all." And then he's gone.

Lúcio glances at Jesse, then at Hana, who looks so pleased with herself Jesse doesn't even bother glaring, and says, "So, I don't know what happened, but I'm just not gonna ask."

"Please don'." Jesse isn't surprised to feel his headache returning full-force.

"Then I guess I won't, either," Genji jokes, trying to revive their easy conversation, but confusion still tinges his voice. Even Jesse isn't quite sure what's going on anymore, so with a strained smile he quickly excuses himself to the bathroom. Lúcio has already left, leaving with the phrase "Hold on, there's a guy here I need talk to here" after he saw someone who Jesse issued was his crush, but Hana gives him a concerned look, probably preparing to follow him and find out what's going on, but before she can Jesse is already making his way out of the room.

It takes him a minute to find the bathroom, but when he does he paces the empty space in front of the locked door and wonders what the hell his life has become.

He fucked Genji's older brother. He inadvertently fucked his ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend Genji's older brother and he should never be allowed out of his room ever again.

Jesse groans aloud, dragging his hands through his hair, and leans heavily against the wall in his distress. He groans again when he hears someone walking down the hall towards him, because apparently finding the peace to beat himself up is also impossible.

"Hello again."

Jesse jerks away from the wall, his flailing making Hanzo's pretty eyes go wide, and fumbles to smooth himself out before he can make a fool of himself. Again.

"Hey," he squeaks, and Hanzo quirks an angular eyebrow at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," Jesse insists, "I just—really, really have to go." Nice one.

Hanzo nods and folds his arms across his chest and looks down at the floor. Locks of dark hair like a curtain over his face.

That's when Jesse realizes he doesn't quite recognize the Hanzo in front of him. Gone are the flirting looks and the shameless smiles and the beckoning fingers—without the pounding music and the flashing lights around them, Hanzo is a different person and Jesse isn't sure what to do with him.

This Hanzo holds himself still, almost protectively, like he's trying to defend himself from an attack he's sire is coming. He's quiet, and tense, and irresistible because fuck he still has all that pale, pale skin and those leather brown eyes and that breathy rasp of a voice, and before he knows it Jesse is already opening his mouth to speak against his better judgement.

"So," he says, "this is kind of a mess, huh?"

Hanzo's eyes flash to his, lingering for a moment before he seems to realize he's looking and turns his head away. But Jesse can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and somehow that makes something like pride blossom in his chest.

"Yes, kind of." Hanzo hesitates; his arms wrap tighter around him. "But it wasn't—I don't..." He bites down on his lip, rolls it between his teeth, and Jesse remembers how it felt to trace that lip with his tongue.

"You don'...?" Jesse prompts.

Hanzo's voice dips down to a whisper. "Regret it. I don't—regret it."

"O-oh," Jesse stutters, and how Hanzo can transform him into this stumbling, awkward loser just by standing in front of him is beyond him. Despite his inexperience, Jesse still prides himself on being a smooth, suave individual—he's hit it off with both guys and girls up until he figured out the latter just didn't do it for him.

Hanzo, on the other hand, doesn't just do it for him. Hanzo lights his fucking blood on fire and sends his heart into overdrive and brings him back to the moment he spent inside him—

"Do you?" Hanzo asks, interrupting Jesse's increasingly filthy thoughts, and Jesse jumps.

"No! No, or course I don'."

"I know I was a little—out there, but—"

"Naw, naw," Jesse shakes his head vigorously, "I really liked it. You were really hot."

Hanzo laughs, a sudden burst of mirth, and Jesse is startled into laughing right along with him.

"Oh my god, I still cannot believe we did that." Hanzo's smiling now, and the corners of it dent his cheeks in a way that has Jesse reeling because no one should be allowed to be that fucking cute.

"Yeah," Jesse smirks, "helluva night."

Hanzo hums his agreement, shifting against his wall, and Jesse sees a splash of pink on each pale cheek.

Maybe that's what spurs Jesse on, what gives him enough courage to add, "And you left me your number." He watches Hanzo carefully for any signs of discomfort, but Hanzo just continues shuffling in place, dark hair masking his expression from view. Jesse aches with the urge to push it behind his ears.

"Yes." There's a slight bob in his throat as he swallows. "Kind of hard to hook up again without some sort of communication."

Jesse's world tilts sideways. "Again?"

"Well, yes," Hanzo finally looks up, gaze locking with Jesse's, and seeing him flush makes Jesse's heartbeat heard against his ribs. "I will not lie to you, last night was... pretty amazing. I guess I'm just saying I wouldn't mind spending another with you."

Jesse can't believe what he's hearing, but because **_holy shit this is happening,_** he steps closer to Hanzo and says, "I'd like that." 

Hanzo smiles again, arms finally slipping out of their fir clasp across his chest to rest placidly by his sides. Jesse knows what it means, so he takes that extra step forward for his mouth to touch Hanzo's.

Hanzo immediately presses into it, lips parting against Jesse's, and suddenly Jesse has a hard time breathing because Hanzo is touching him again, running war hands up his back and over the curve of his shoulder and he never _never_  could have imagined this would be happening again, let alone so soon, but fuck if he's complaining.

The first touch of Hanzo's tongue to his mouth is soft, almost shy, and Jesse welcomes it eagerly—maybe too eagerly, but he figures he should start getting used to the fact that Hanzo brings it out of him. He touches Hanzo's arm and the stretch of skin along his collarbones and the delicate curve of his neck, and when Hanzo's next breath staggers into a soft moan his cock twitches with interest.

The telltale sound of a toilet flushing send them scrambling apart, wide-eyed and flushed as they're abruptly forced from their dirty little bubble. Through the pounding of his heart, Jesse hears the click of the door unlocking, and in the next second a young woman with purple half-shaved hair slips out of the bathroom, giving them both an odd look before making her way down the hall.

There's a beat of silence between the moment she disappears around the corner and the moment Hanzo grabs Jesse's wrist and practically drags him into the empty bathroom, struggling to close the door and successfully lock it when they're pressed so close. But he does it, and when he turns around Jesse doesn't give him a second to rest before he's reaching out to pull him in for another sloppy, off-centered kiss. Jesse swallows Hanzo's surprised gasp, fingers tangling in the soft tufts at his nape, and takes satisfaction in the way he melts into him, so responsive and warm and good for Jesse.

The bathroom's small, so small that Jesse knocks several items off the counter on accident just by pressing Hanzo back into it, though with Hanzo's kisses falling hot on his mouth and Hanzo's body rolling deliberately against his he can't be bothered to even consider stopping to pick anything off the floor right now. Jesse can feel him everywhere—so close they are that Jesse can hardly tell where he ends and Hanzo begins.

Wandering fingers creep their way under his shirt to splay across his abdomen, smoothing warmth across his skin, and Jesse can't stop his hips from rocking blindly into Hanzo's. It's completely instinctual, driven by raw desire smoldering throughout him, and for a second he isn’t sure it’s okay until he feels Hanzo pushing against him in return, teeth snagging his lip, body shivering with a single moan. They clutch at each other, at clothes and skin and breaths of pleasure like letting go will make this moment disappear.

"Fuck, Hanzo," Jesse gasps out between the push and pull of their bodies, a constant wave of delirium and heat.

"Do it," Hanzo says into his mouth, and when Jesse lets his hand fall lower, lower, lower to brush against Hanzo's ass he presses back into it like it's second fucking nature.

"What?"

Hanzo leans back just far enough to trail those pretty kiss-swollen lips down the length of Jesse's neck, swiping his tongue once over the fluttering pulse he finds there.

"You should fuck me," he says.

Jesse makes a mortifying sound in the back of his throat. "Fuck, fuck, Han—you can't just—"

"Why not?"

Jesse whimpers, hands shaking where they clasp at Hanzo's hips, and when Hanzo bites at his skin—teasing, almost playful—Jesse knows he's smiling.

"Again? You sure?" Jesse asks, not because he doesn't want to ( _holy fuck does he want to_ ) but because they went at it pretty hard last night and he's not sure how sore Hanzo is an if it's better for them to just indulge in two messy handjobs and call it a night.

But all of Jesse's logic and reason is quickly thrown out the window when Hanzo slides his hand down the front of Jesse's jeans. Those dark eyes gleam at him, and Jesse chokes on a moan as he grabs at Hanzo's arm.

Hanzo's only response is to squeeze him through his boxers and whisper, voice grating low and hot and smooth, "Fuck, yes. I can still feel you, you know. Every time I move it reminds me of how fucking good you stretched me out on your cock."

"Yeah?" Jesse groans because he's a weak, _weak_ man and with Hanzo curving his tongue along the shell of his ear like that, so hot and wet and perfect, who can blame him for crumbling?

"Mm," Hanzo hums, skates his fingers over the wet tip of Jesse's cock, "I'm still loose from it."

Jesse shudders, drunk on this feeling of Hanzo on him and around him and all over him and yet he needs more _more **more**_ —

"Come on," Hanzo purrs, voice dripping honey, and now his hand is stroking down Jesse's cock and that's when he _snaps_.

He takes ahold of Hanzo's hips to turn him around and press him down over the sink, bending over him to mold their bodies together.

"You wan' me t'fuck you right now?" he bites the words out, arousal clotting his throat and making it hard to think about anything other than utterly wrecking the body under his. "Here? You're that desperate for it?"

Hanzo nods; Jesse can feel the stutter of his heartbeat.

"Alright. But you've gotta be quiet," another nod, "'specially with everyone just down the hall." Hanzo fucking whimpers, and Jesse has to clench his jaw in an effort to suppress his own moan because just the thought of taking Hanzo in a place like this—a place so tight and messy and open—isn't doing his self-control any favors.

"Okay," Jesse mutters to himself, "okay. Lube, we need—"

"Genji keeps some in here," Jesse says, already squirming out from under Jesse to start yanking drawers open.

"And condoms." Jesse deflates. There's no way—

"Also in here."

"Right, forgot how much Genji liked getting fucked in the bathroom." Jesse laughs, and he sees Hanzo's mouth twitch up into a smile he adds, "Is every Shimada a bottom?"

The sharp jab to his side is more than worth it to see that smile bloom into a full-blown grin.

"Shut up, cowboy, and help me look."

" _Entendido_ *," Jesse says importantly, and finally joins the hunt.

Hanzo end sup elbowing him in the face several times and Jesse nearly falls over when his pant slip too far down his thighs and he definitely has more than a few bruises on his feet, but for all his suffering they do eventually find both lube and condoms stashed in the far backs of the last drawer. Hanzo holds them up with a triumphant "aha!" and a pleased look on his face, and Jesse laughs at him until he's silenced by what quickly are becoming his favorite pair of lips.

"Stop fooling around," Hanzo says, working at the zipper of his own pants and pushing them all the way ~~(TO FUCKING VICTORY TOWN)~~  down to his ankles, "we've got to hurry. Someone might come looking for us." Then Hanzo's turning his attention to fumbling with Jesse's clothes, shoving them out of the way to stroke Jesse's cock back to full hardness, and Jesse figures Hanzo is probably right and this is probably a time to start participating.

This time, he also has a hard time with the lube and almost drops it twice before managing to rub enough of it over his fingers. And really, it isn't even his fault—Hanzo is the one who should be blamed, of course, because—come on. It's pretty hard to concentrate when you've got an incredibly sexy guy jerking you off at the same time.

He waits for Hanzo to roll the condom on, fast in a way that only points to experience, and shoves down a sudden flare of insecurity because none of them needs that right now.

"Turn 'round?" Jesse suggests instead, since it's hard to reach Hanzo's ass at the angle, and Hanzo immediately turns to brace himself over the sink again. His back curves, hips nudging back in a silent invitation.

Jesse presses himself along the long line of Hanzo's body, tucks his nose into the corner of his jaw. He takes a breath, slipping his fingers into the shadow of Hanzo's cleft, searching, and when  he finds it skirt slightly around the rim of Hanzo's hole.

Hanzo makes a frustrated noise, pushes down just so, and Jesse bites the inside of his cheek as his index finger sinks all the way into Hanzo's warm, warm body.

"Y'weren't kidding," Jesse says, voice shaking, because _m_ _ierda_ * is that hot. He can feel how loose Hanzo is, how much easier it is to pull his finger out and push it back in, and fuck—he's still slick from the lube they used last time.

" _別の_ *," Hanzo demands, but like Jesse his voice doesn't sound too steady. "Another, Jesse. I can take it."

Jesse believes him, adding a second and a third finger in quick succession because with they way Hanzo's panting, breath itching terribly  as he tries to keep himself from making too much noise, Jesse thinks that if he doesn't get his cock inside Hanzo in the next two minutes he's actually going to die. He's gong to die with his pants around his thighs and his fingers in Hanzo's ass and he's probably going to like it.

"Okay, enough," Hanzo snaps, throwing an arm out behind himself to swat at Jesse's hand. "Fuck me."

Jesse grins at Hanzo's obvious impatience, gripping his cock around the base to line himself up.

" _Con mucho gusto, mi amor_ *," he says, and pushes inside.

A strangled moan spills from Hanzo's lips, too loud in such a small space, and Hanzo drops his face into the crook of his arm in a desperate attempt to stifle it. His thighs tense against Jesse's, quivering slightly under the pressure, and Jesse wraps both hands around his hips to keep him upright as he bottoms out.

Swearing in Spanish (a habit from living in Santa Fe with Hispanic foster parents), Jesse presses his forehead to the back of Hanzo's neck, squeezes his eyes shut—Hanzo is so much tighter and hotter and wetter around him than he was last night, and Jesse isn't sure if it's because this time he's one hundred percent sober of because this time they're in such a risky spot. Either way, it doesn't matter; Jesse's entire world has tapered down to Hanzo and his muffled moaning and the overwhelming heat of sex.

" _ファック_ *—can you move?" Hanzo hisses, rocking back the best he can while pinned between Jesse and the counter.

"Anythin' for you, princess." Before Hanzo can slap him—and Jesse is certain he will—Jesse pulls his hips back only to snap them forward again, as fast and hard as he can manage within this small space, and whatever Hanzo had planned to do in retaliation is entirely forgotten as he groans under the force of it.

"Quiet," Jesse reminds him, sinking his own teeth into the pale skin of Hanzo's neck to keep his own noises to a minimum as he fucks into him again and again and again, nearly losing the fight of keeping his eyes open against the pleasure sparking at the base of his spine with each thrust.

He watches the way Hanzo's entire body jolts underneath his, watches the way sweat collects over his neck, watches the way his fingers scratch uselessly against the mirror—he revels in it, in the fact that he can make Hanzo fall apart like this, struggling for some way to stay silent as Jesse fucks him open.

"Jesse," Hanzo gasps, breath punching out of him, and Jesse's fingers tighten around his hips as he drives in even harder because hearing Hanzo say his name like that—like he's the only thing that matters and the only thing that ever will matter—is something that makes his heart clench painfully in his chest.

A loud knock at the door has them both freezing in place.

"Excuse me?" a voice thick with a Russian accent bleeds into the room, muffled but clearly annoyed. "Is someone in there? I gotta piss."

Jesse lifts his head from Hanzo's nape to glance into the mirror, panicked gaze locking with Hanzo's hazy one. For a long moment they stand there, staring unblinkingly at each other, Jesse's dick still buried to the hilt inside Hanzo. Then Hanzo's mouth ticks up into a smile, his body shifting under Jesse's, and Jesse nearly bites through his tongue when Hanzo rolls back into him like nothing's wrong.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, no.

It's so dirty and so fucking wrong and Jesse's hips are already twitching forward without a second thought. Hanzo's smile widens like he's just won something, pretty eyes fluttering, ass still working back and forth over Jesse's cock, and Jesse throws caution to the wind because fuck if he's going to let Hanzo have all the fun.

He meets Hanzo's little rocking movements with careful thrusts of his own, just enough to send heat flickering through his groin, and when he cants his hips up slightly Hanzo lets out a moan so loud it fucking echoes off the walls.

Jesse quickly slaps a hand over Hanzo’s mouth, heart leaping in part fear and part excitement, the rhythm of his hips speeding up almost urgently until they’re right back where they started, fucking fast and hard and desperate against the counter without even the slightest bit of shame.

With his free hand, Jesse grips mindlessly at one of Hanzo’s thighs, hiking it up onto the counter so he can push closer and closer and closer until Hanzo quakes from how deep he’s reaching inside him.

”Fuck, just like that,” Hanzo breathes, the words breaking apart in his mouth because of how absolutely ruined he is from the way Jesse is fucking him, tearing him apart with just his cock. “I’m so close.”

Jesse presses open-mouthed kisses into the soft skin of Hanzo's neck, flushed a deep pink and straining hard as he pants and whines and moans into the palm of Jesse's hand, completely rampant now that they've both opted to ignore the fact that they are still in a very public place. Jesse wraps his hand around Hanzo's cock where it lays weeping against his navel, roughly stroking him off, and then Hanzo's shuddering, spine arching, incoherent words of both English and Japanese tumbling from his lips as he comes hard over himself and the counter and Jesse’s hand.

And the sight of Hanzo’s face in the mirror—mouth hanging slack, eyes rolling back, back, back, strands of hair plastered to his cheeks and forehead by sweat—is more than enough to send Jesse toppling over the edge, finishing with one, two, three more thrusts and a long, drawn-out moan and one last twitch of his hips against Hanzo’s ass.

They slump against one another, panting quietly and basking in a short but satisfying afterglow, blinking until the room around them returns enough for them to stand upright.

Jesse pulls back, groaning lowly at the feeling of his cock slipping out of Hanzo’s body, and indulges himself on the image of Hanzo’s slick, reddened hole clenching around nothing before he steps away to peel the condom off to toss it into the trash can.

He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe  his hands clean, then throws that away too, and turns to watch Hanzo prop a hip against the counter and tug his pants back up.

”Just as good as last time, I presume?" Jesse says cockily, and smirks when Hanzo looks at him, but the way his heart batters hard against his ribcage belies his confidence.

"Mm, just as good," Hanzo murmurs. He rearranges his hair, wipes the sweat from his neck, and adds, "Maybe even better."

Hanzo unlocks the door, pushes it open just enough to peer into the hall. Once he's confirmed it's empty, he steps outside, and pauses to toss one last look over his shoulder.

"Like you said, you have my number," Hanzo says.

Jesse nods, heart creeping into his throat.

"Call me." Hanzo walks away, leaving the door open, and Jesse grins to himself.

Maybe he will.

 

When he finally finds Lúcio and Hana, who are disappointed and delighted with him, respectively, he realizes he isn't even sorry.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

Jesse did _not_ think this through.

It hasn't been so bad the first two times, and Jesse had only started to notice it on their fifth night together, an insistent scratching at the at the back of his mind. Unfortunately he'd neglected to examine it, allow that scratching to grow and grow and grow until it ripped at his every thought and broke every one of his illusions apart.

It's now, when he's already lost count of how many times him and Hanzo have fallen into bed with each other, that Jesse realizes he's really fucked up.

Wiping the sweat from his face, Jesse lolls his head to the side just in time to catch a glance of Hanzo's pretty eyes just before they vanish with a faint flutter of dark lashes. He watches the slim curve of Hanzo's lips as they part for breath, the dark bruises littering his long, trim neck, the wisp of dark hair that falls so perfectly against the bridge of his nose. His eyes trails to the tattoo on Hanzo's left pec moving down his arm. It was only the line-art of a complicated dragon, with storm clouds and lightning bolts. It was a perfect symbol of the Shimada warrior.

And if his own breath stutters and maybe even stops for one long second then that's no one's business but his own.

Hanzo opens his eyes again, biting at the corner of his mouth, and Jesse quickly averts his eyes to the wall behind him. His heart kicks hard in protest.

"Mm, that was nice..." Hanzo murmurs, shifting until Jesse feels the weight of his arm pressing against his side.

"Yeah." Jesse locks up, tries to think of what to say next because he should definitely be saying something else now but when Hanzo is this case to him, so close that all Jesse can think about is how easy it would be to lean past those two inches and just kiss him—

"I—guess I should get going, then," Hanzo says, slowly untangling himself from Jesse, slowly inching himself off the bed, and Jesse bites back the urge to pull Hanzo back into his chest and keep him there forever.

"Oh. Al-Alrigh'." Jesse hopes the smile he plasters over his face isn't too shaky.

It doesn't matter, anyway, because Hanzo is already heading for the clothes that lie scattered in the corner of the room. Jesse wrestles with the memory of how it had felt to peel them off him, one by one, when all he had to worry about was how fast he could get his hands on that pale, pale skin, until it washes over him and down his throat and in his veins.

He opens his mouth, preparing to suggest that this time Hanzo should maybe possibly consider staying over—because where's the harm in that, right?—but something about watching Hanzo pull his shirt back on, back to Jesse, makes the words die before they've even touched his tongue.

So Jesse remains still and silent on his bed, head pillowed atop his folded arms, and does his very best to ignore the way the black of Hanzo's hair kisses the white of his shoulders every time he moves.

Once he's all dressed, Hanzo reaches for the doorknob, and Jesse's heart hangs in the space between. Then he pauses, glances back, eyes hesitant and almost lost. Jesse gazes back at him, just as hesitant and just as lost.

"See you tomorrow?" Hanzo says eventually, head cocked slightly.

"Sure," Jesse grins, knows it's strained, and Hanzo gives him a tight-lipped smile in return. "I—I'll text you."

Hanzo nods, and Jesse sees his smile drop away as soon as he turns to leave. When he does, Jesse buries his face into his pillow and groans out loud.

No, he didn't think this through.

 

And yet when Hanzo comes over again tomorrow, and again on Wednesday, and again on Saturday, Jesse doesn't think to do anything but let Hanzo kiss him and touch him and when it's all over he lets him leave, the whisper of his voice pressed into Jesse’s ears and the hue of his eyes stamped into his memory.

It’s amazing up until the point it isn’t, up until Jesse remembers that this is temporary and that Hanzo isn’t really his and that when their breathing evens out and their sweat dries Hanzo is going to vanish from his life until the next time one of them decides they’re horny. But it should be enough—Jesse tells himself it’s enough. It’s enough because he’s ecstatic—really, he is—that his gorgeous one-night stand has become a a regular hookup and he’s getting ass at least thrice a week and…

He definitely shouldn’t be complaining. He shouldn’t, and still there’s this twinge in his chest whenever Hanzo shows up at his door, and fuck isn’t he pathetic, pining over someone he technically already had.

Jesse glares down at his phone, at the last message he sent, at the evidence of how gone he is for Hanzo, for his pale skin and his dark, dark eyes.

Because Hanzo is unattainable, something to admire and indulge in and to desire, not something to—to—

Not something to love.

The doorbell rings, and—as always—Jesse drops everything to answer.

 

Hanzo seems happy enough to see him. He always does, and for a moment Jesse can pretend that Hanzo is here for him and they have something precious and healthy and  _real_.

But they don't, and it shouldn't matter, not when Hanzo presses him into the wall and molds their lips together and Jesse loses himself to it like drops of rain in an ocean. He forgets why this is a bad idea, tunes out the perpetual nagging at the back of his mind, and lets himself fall into this familiar routine of leading Hanzo into his room and smoldering his heart whenever it pushes against his chest.

They go slow and fast, hard and soft, and it's always too much and not enough. Jesse thinks he might be drowning.

Drowning or not, Jesse seals it all away into the recesses of his mind because he has to, at least while Hanzo is here. He can smile and murmur and follow Hanzo's movements until they inevitably stop, until only the walls of his room can see it when he admits he isn't really okay with whatever's happening here.

In the end, it's the way his name rolls off Hanzo's lips that breaks him down.

It's not the way Hanzo's body fits against his like they're two pieces of the same puzzle and it's not the way his eyes fall shut and his mouth drops open on every gasping moan Jesse pulls from him. It's not even the way Hanzo looks afterwards, when that cloud of contentment passes over his face and he glows under it like he's made out of magic. Because these are things he thinks he could get used to, things he could learn to block out with time and a little practice. 

But when he hears his name slip out into the space around them, stained with Hanzo's voice and all its breathy desire, Jesse is reminded of why he's never going to win this battle. It's dangerous in how it pulls Jesse back in, jolting him back to reality where he's aware of every little thing Hanzo is doing to him—tearing him down and building him back up, over and over and over again in a cruel, vicious cycle.

And Jesse can only watch, helpless, as stars fall from Hanzo's lips and pour like a waterfall into his heart.

~ | | ~ ~ | | ~

"I think," Hana starts, "that you should ask him out."

"Who?" Jesse has never been good at playing nonchalant, and this time is no different; Hana just grins knowingly, kicking her feet up over the arm of her chair and tapping a finger against her mouth.

"I'd recommend you start small," she continues. "Take him to the movies first, then work your way up from there."

"I never asked for yer advice," Jesse says, and Hana laughs.

"At this point,  _카우보이_ *, I'm pretty sure you need it." Jesse is too proud to admit she's right, and that he's overwhelmed and completely out of his death with all these new things he's feeling.

Jesse groans, slumping back into his seat and dragging his hands over his face. "No, Hana. Can we please talk about something else? Anything else? I'll pay you."

"I thought you liked him," Hana says, because ignoring everything Jesse says is undoubtedly what she does best.

"I do," Jesse mutters, tipping his head down to avoid Hana's inquisitive stare.

"Then what's the problem?"

Frustration prickles at the back of his throat. "It's not that I don't want to take him out," he tells her, and cringes at the fame twinge in his chest. "Trust me, I do—it's just..."

His gaze wavers when it drifts back to Hana. She's looking at him over the rim of her glasses, fingers interlocked under her chin, listening so intently Jesse worries if she's going to sprain something.

"I dunno if he wants to." He hesitates. "Date me, I mean," he clarifies rather unnecessarily, and Hana throws an exasperated look over to him.

"You'll never know unless you ask," she points out.

"Sure," Jesse shrugs, "but what if he doesn't? Then we'll get all awkward and ruin what we have now, and I don't really want to risk that."

"What _do_ you have?" Hana asks, still watching him with that curious look on her face, and Jesse doesn't quite know what to say. How can he be expected to respond to a question he's already thought about a million times over and still hasn't come up with anything close to an answer?

When Jesse remains silent, Hana says, "That's what I thought," and turns back to her game, leaving Jesse to simmer in the uncertainty her words have left behind. 

 

"This is such a _bad_ idea." Jesse scans the all-too-familiar building in front of him, grimacing, wondering he should just make a run for it. " _Such_ a bad idea. I don' think I should—"

"Relax," Hana says, too confident for Jesse to take her seriously, and continues her way down the street. Jesse trails after her reluctantly, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, and gives the club another dubious look.

"C'mon,  _conejito_ *. He's probably not even in there."

"He is," Hana insists.

"How do y'know?"

"Genji may have mentioned."

Jesse scoffs. "Mentioned, or—"

But Hana is already shoving him towards the door, completely disregarding Jesse's protests, and when exactly had she decided to dictate his entire life?

"You are the worst," Jesse declares. "If y'think that I—"

"It's gonna be okay," Hana says, giving him one last push that sends Jesse lurching forward dangerously. "Go get 'em,  _호랑이_ *!"

Jesse rights himself, handing the ID he hasn't touched since the last time he was here over to the bouncer—his name-tag says Winston, and he looks scary enough as is—standing in front of him, and throws one last glare over his shoulder before striding through the door and straight into last month.

 

The lights are the same as he remembers, and so is the music. Even the people are the same, with their skin-tight clothes and stretches of bare skin glimmering on the dance floor.

Bodies press against him from all sides, some accidentally and some intentionally, a constant stream of adrenaline and heat. He pushes past every single of them, the pounding of his heart growing with each step he takes, the sound of it ringing through his ears and roaring through his blood. Anticipation, strong and unrelenting, builds inside him until he almost forgets what he's here for.

His fingers twist into the hem of his jacket, tugging nervously, and he thinks that maybe he should be drunk for this. But he dismisses that thought just as fast as it came to him—if he's going to be running into Hanzo again, he can't afford to be thinking anything clearly. God knows he's going to be having a hard enough time as it is.

And fuck, he hasn't even thought about what to say even if he does end up finding Hanzo. He's _screwed_. He's screwed to hell and back and he can't for the life of him figure out how Hana managed to get him in here not once, but  _twice._

And then—a flash of a familiar tattoo from the corner of his eye, and Jesse turns to see Hanzo sitting at one of the many tables lining the edges of the club, alone, a half-empty glass dangling from his hand. For a minute of two Jesse stands there, on the outskirts of the crowd, staring past everything and everyone until it's just him and Hanzo left in the world. Eventually he swallows his nerves down, tosses his inhibitions over his shoulder, and steps up to Hanzo's table.

"Hey," he says, "y'come here often?"

Hanzo's eyes are wary when they leave his drink and flicker upward. Jesse shifts, has to strain to keep his friendly smile in place, and nearly sags in relief when Hanzo recognizes him and that wariness fades to something akin to warmth.

"Very funny," Hanzo says, the side of his mouth hooking upwards, and Jesse laughs softly.

"Sorry. Couldn't help it." Jesse shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he contemplates his next move. He could ask Hanzo to dance, or buy him another drink, or get a drink himself—

"Are you going to sit down or what?"

Jesse jumps a little. "Oh, yeah, sure," he says, hasty, and takes the seat across from Hanzo. Tapping an idle rhythm out onto the surface of the table, he clears his throat to continue—"So... I know I was joking before, but in all seriousness, do you usually come here on your free time?"

Hanzo shrugs, "Not really. It's just for some fun." He casts an amused look over Jesse, lip quirking up again. "What about you,  _カウボーイ_ *?"

Jesse shakes his head immediately. "Nah. This is only my second time here, and I don't really want to get caught using a fake ID."

"And you've run into me both time?" Hanzo grins, eyes dark and teasing, and Jesse grins back.

"Literally, that first time," Jesse recalls, and his stomach dips when Hanzo laughs, moving just that much closer. 

"Yeah, that wasn't fun. I'd planned on decking you until I saw how attractive you were."

"Oh? So you think I'm attractive, do you?" Jesse waggles his eyebrows; his face is starting to ache with how much he's smiling.

"Well," Hanzo cocks his head to the side, "I don't know who wouldn't."

Jesse freezes, heat blooming across his face. Oh, fuck, what's he supposed to say to something like that?

Seeming to sense his internal panic, Hanzo lets his gaze drop. Carefully, he traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his finger. "Where do you go to pick up guys, then if not here?"

Nervous laughter brims in Jesse's chest; he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

"Considerin' you were the first person I've ever had the honor of 'picking up,' I don' think—"

"First?" Jesse looks up to find Hanzo rigid in his seat, brows arching almost comically high.

"Yeah?"

"No fucking way." Hanzo gapes at him mouth hanging slack, eyes wide in astonishment. "You're shitting me. You are so shit—"

"Nope. First kiss, too." Jesse thinks he can safely say that this moment of watching Hanzo's expression warp in unimaginable proportions is the one good thing that's resulted from his vast inexperience.

Leaning over the table, Hanzo levels one pale finger and a glare at him. It's threatening, and should be scary, but Jesse finds himself trying to hold his grin back instead of shrinking away. "This isn't funny, Jesse. I'm—"

"—serious? Yeah, me too, pumpkin."

For Hanzo, that's when the truth sinks in, and he retreats back to his side of the table with a mortified groan.

"Why didn't—why didn't you _tell_ me?" he hisses, holding an arm over his face as if to shield himself. Jesse thinks he could get used to this version of Hanzo—nervous and blushing and absolutely endearing.

Jesse lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I guess it didn't occur to me at the time." It most definitely did, but he decided that's a fact Hanzo doesn't need to know.

Hanzo eyes Jesse from under his arm, lips pressed together in a thin, pale line.

"You—if it was your first time, you should've had someone..."

"What, better?" Jesse grins, tilted and giddy. "I think you were pretty damn good."

" _Me?_ You're one of those fucking sex _gods,"_ Hanzo mutters, voice tinged with awe and disbelief and a littlest of envy.

"If I am, then you bring it out in me."

Hanzo's teeth snag at his lower lip; his eyes darken until they're black even as beam of light passes above.

"Come one," he says, standing abruptly from his chair, "let's go." He turns and motions for Jesse to follow.

Hanzo leads him outside, where the rush of cold air against his face knocks him far enough back to remember what his original plan was. Before he has the chance to think about it too much, he reaches out to wrap his hand around Hanzo's wrist to stop him from walking into the street to hail a cab for them.

"I was thinkin'," Jesse starts once Hanzo turns to look at him, "instead of—um, we could head back to my place and—and talk, or something." Fuck, that's _lame_. He racks his useless _useless_ brain for something else and that's when Hana's advice comes rushing back to him. "Or, like, watch a movie." He waits, hanging onto the way Hanzo's lips part, and close, and part again. 

"I-I wouldn't—"

"Sure, yeah. No problem." Jesse grimaces, hooking a hand around the back of his neck and staring intently at a bright neon sign across the street. "I kinda expected it since you're gorgeous and so out of my league and probably don't wanna go out with someone like me anyway, but I guess I should—I mean—thanks for everything, it was really cool being with you even if—"

"Jesse."

At the sound of his name Jesse closes his mouth so fast his teeth clack together. He blinks, refocusing, cheeks instantly staining red. Had he been rambling again? He'd—fuck, he can't do anything right.

But Hanzo is looking at him, lips turned upward in a way that reminds Jesse of a dream, and standing much closer than Jesse remembers.

"Let me finish. I was just going to say that I wouldn't mind that," Hanzo says, pretty eyes crinkling around the  edges when that smile grows and grows until he's grinning. The sparse lights lining this side of the road make thin shadows dance across his face and his neck and Jesse doesn't think anyone's ever looked this beautiful.

"A movie sounds nice," Hanzo continues. A lock of dark hair blows over his mouth; a pale hand brushes it away. "Talking, too."

"O-oh," Jesse says, grasping for something among his scattered thoughts, "that's—good. Yeah." He takes a sharp breath, aware he's done nothing but make a fool of himself, and tries to understand why Hanzo is still smiling at him like—like that.

Like he just might feel the same. Like Jesse might have a chance.

His chest feels so full he thinks he could burst. "I mean—great, because I really like you, and now that I think about it I'm pretty sure we can—"

Cool fingers press against his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

"You talk a lot," Hanzo notes, but Jesse barely hears him over the sound of his own heartbeat and the way Hanzo's drawing his fingers back to replace them with the soft touch of his lips. Ironically, this kiss—soft and sweet and so very real—is the one to shake the core of Jesse's world and steal the breath from his lungs.

"I like you too," Hanzo says with all the deep brown of his eyes and the light of his smile, and Jesse relaxes against him.

 

It's long overdue, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> * 애인 소년: lover-boy  
> * 바보: fool  
> * こんにちは、みなさん: hey, everyone  
> * 내 엉덩이: my ass (direct translation is butt)  
> * entendido: understood  
> * mierda: shit  
> * 別の: another  
> * con mucho gusto, mi amor: gladly, my love  
> * ファック: fucking  
> * 카우보이: cowboy  
> * conejito: little bunny (Jesse's nickname for Hana)  
> * 호랑이: tiger  
> * カウボーイ: cowboy
> 
> ~ | | ~ ~ | | ~
> 
> follow me on Tumblr @knight-of-homosexuality, and come say hi. and hey, remember, YOLOSRKB (You Only Live Once So Read Kiribaku)!


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